Julie 4.6

Angry-at-the-world-Julie is back again. I need to start numbering the sides of me. We'll call this one Julie 4.6, just because those are my favorite numbers (yes, I do have favorite numbers). I'm a nerd, deal with it. Here comes one of those deep, personal, and really confusing thoughts I have that none of you will probably get!

I am just another smile on your face,
just another word to replace your facade
of insolence. I am nostalgia, I dream in the future,
live in the past. And I'm measured in meters,
slipping through your grasp
when you least expect me to escape.
We are long forgotten,
close enough to touch
but too far to hold on to.
We are your skeletons, your nimble
fingers that grip so tightly onto the scythe.
Your purple knuckles, made of brass,
that you polish with the sweat you drench
yourself in when you dream of me.

I am nostalgia.